


Dreamed You First

by Elizabeth Perry (watersword)



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:31:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watersword/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Perry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has a cute little butt.  That is the first thing she notices; she ain't made of <em>stone</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamed You First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hakuen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuen/gifts).



> Based off the [Gotta Dance fantasy sequence](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDChP5I82a0), and relying heavily on Damon Runyon's canon of work.

He has a cute little butt. That is the first thing she notices; she ain't made of _stone_.

He has a cute little butt and light little feet, and she is in a _mood_. It is late — she doesn't know how late, a doll can't wear a watch on Nights Out, of course — and her dinner companions for the night aren't interesting enough to keep her from noticing her empty stomach. And her feet are hurting.

There has been nothing but oysters and champagne all night; anything is better than watching the silver dollar spin through the air again or choking down another lemony, slippery mollusk.

She is considering killing the man next to her and sending the carcass into the kitchen so she has a damn steak on her plate, but she is distracted, and when his hat comes flying close enough for her to pick it up, she does so.

She almost regrets it when he puts the spectacles on, but then she checks again, shimmying round him, and his butt really _is_ that cute. Hey, everyone has a weakness.

So she gets rid of the spectacles, gets rid of the hat, blows some smoke in his eyes — the evening is looking up, she thinks, and almost smiles. And then the character in question, who is wearing a weskit of a most remarkable hue, grabs her, and oh yes indeed, the evening is most certainly looking up.

It is entirely possible that the best part about him bracing under her is that she does not have any weight on her feet. On the other hand, she also likes the part where he is steady under her and his palms are dry, which a doll appreciates when she is wearing a hot little number like she is wearing tonight. So she is enjoying herself, maybe showing off a little, but a girl likes to know she is being looked at, and then the dinner companion, with his grabby hands and his cigar and his silver dollar at his fingertips, whom she has very nicely succeeded in ignoring, leans his noggin in.

It's not that she is mercenary; her mama taught her better than that. ("It don't matter what he's got in his pockets if he ain't got nothing in his pants," Mama always tells her, and Mama knows an awful lot of dumb and an awful lot of smart but she has not been wrong about men in near-on twenty years and is damn proud of it.) But a girl has tuition bills, and blowjobs don't pay near enough to cover the heat.

So she goes, and she doesn't look back, and she ain't ashamed. She just wonders, sometimes. Dreams a little. Nothing wrong with dreams.


End file.
